For now...

Here is the team, and NO, I was not about to rob anything! The dust was awful!

Bad hair, bad lighting, an itchy nose and Take Three!!!

Here's a vlog. 

I look like an idiot.

My nose was itchy.

And I'm in a purple haze...

Hey, Happy Friday!!

Oh yeah, there's hockey gear everywhere!!

Hmmmm. What do you think?

I've been trying to think of a statement that best illustrates why I write and what I'm trying to say.

What do you think of this?

A HUGE thank you to Michelle Griep at 

writerofftheleash.blogspot.com for the link to the website http://recitethis.com

44 seconds with The Death-Cam.

People?

THIS is why "praying for your missionary" is critical!!

Enjoy....

And just so you know?

This was one of the mellow, easy, not so scary roads.

All in all, there were about 4 days of this kind of driving.

And the "guy in the rear view mirror" from my last post? That was his driving. He's a REALLY good driver.

And it's all worth it, every last nail biting second, so I can give people a radio that will tell them about Jesus.

And meet little dudes who like my shades.

And learn true kindness from ladies who have almost nothing but cook all day for the team and kiss you senseless when you thank them with a new cooking knife.

And cuddle little angels named Maya.

Talk about drawing a crowd!

Bolivia is absolutely beautiful!!

See?

Next time on From The Redhead?

How sick is SICK?

Is it when you can't move your arms and legs?

When you can't walk?

Or when you need oxygen between flights? 

Alrighty kids! Here we go!!!

We're off to 

BOLIVIA!

This is over the Caribbean somewhere. This means we've left our *world* behind and are off to the land of llamas (that's pronounced "yamas" ) and SPRING! We flew from Fredericton and then to Toronto with Air Canada. Not much choice there. You Canadians will know what I mean. Then from Toronto, we flew on Copa Airlines (excellent airline, BTW, better than I expected) to Panama City.

Panama City/Tocumen Airport.

Merciful heavens, it was RAINING !!!

That was the runway, and it was under 6 inches of warm water. There is a jungle out there, but the rain was so bad, you couldn't see a single tree. And it was loud!

After a layover in Panama, we flew to Santa Cruz, Bolivia. And once we were through the 1am customs and immigration cattle call with 200 other travelers, we headed for some comida. 

Food.

Okay.

You know how some things LOOK good???

Ahem.

No, that is NOT all the luggage. There were a few more carts.

We had 30 suitcases, stuffed to the gills with our precious solar powered radios.

Later that day, we flew on to Sucre, Bolivia. What? Did you ask what state Sucre is in? Actually, it's not a "state", it's a "department". 

Welcome to Chuquisaca Department. And Sucre is, ohhhh, like, 300 or 400 YEARS old! 

Here's me and Aslan, just chillin and being all tourist-y. And there's a good reason to hang out and be a tourist. We spent 3 days acclimating to the altitude. Sucre sits at 9500 feet. One CANNOT just land at 9500 feet and jump in a jeep. Nope.

Like the hat?

Here we are, Day One, stopping for a potty break and photo op.

I'm sorry? What?

No. No, there was NOT a rest stop.

You see that wee little bush? 

Yup. THAT is your "rest stop".

And so begins the REAL trip!! Up and away from the city and into the "campo",  or as the missionaries and local residents call it, "the countryside". 

Basically, we're heading deep into the Andes, up into some of the most remote town and villages in South America.

And my friends, there is no I-95.

There is this. Thousands and thousands of miles of this.

And this road? 

Is really QUITE wide.

Our next post will discuss pitch, roll and the guy in the mirror.

An Andean sized thank you to Becky and Heather!!

Well, I'm home!

We arrived on Saturday morning, after a 48 journey, to very happy family and friends.

After a short time of visiting, I went to bed and woke up at 5pm. I made a few phone calls and went to bed again. 

I slept in til 10am on Sunday (sinner!!) then had long afternoon nap. Then I made more phone calls.

Yes. My house looks like 4 males lived alone, unchecked or supervised, for 18 days.

Yes. My suitcases are still opened, with my belongings strewn about the living room.

I'm STILL tired. And as my darling husband said, after I muttered something about aching all over "well, no kidding, you haven't had a normal sleep in almost 3 weeks!"

I will try my best to blog the trip, and will use my trip journal to do so. That will start on Wednesday...but for now?

A HUGE thank you to Heather and Becky for blog sitting, and to all my guest bloggers for covering the show while I was trekking across Bolivia, bringing Jesus to the Quechua Indians. 

Heather Day Gilbert--Guest Post

My Greatest Adventure…

By: Heather Day Gilbert

I used to be an adventurous person. I’d jump on a motorcycle (and crash into a wall) or jump into a canoe (and crash into a tree), and just keep on truckin’. Thankfully, all my crashes were minor.

Then I had kids. And I knew I had to keep myself alive long enough to be the Ultimate Mother-in-Law and Grandma. I’m not joking, either—I’m a big-picture kinda gal.

Other adventures…well, it’s an adventure giving birth—the great unknown and uncontrollable is going on, right in your very own body!

It was an adventure for our family to step out on faith and move a couple of times, not always knowing how things would turn out. This time, my husband didn’t even have a job locked in first.

But the greatest adventure of my life would probably be marriage. I think back to my romance-sparkled, youthful entrance into that holy institution. Here’s a pic of me and the red-headed Welshman I got to marry:

It's been over fifteen years since that life-changing day.

And we’ve seen sickness and health. We’ve seen mostly poorer, relatively speaking. We don’t have much me time anymore. In fact, to celebrate our fifteenth anniversary, my husband got to unload a moving trailer. We’ve lost sleep, gotten gray hairs, and watched grandparents die. We’ve fought (vigorously debated). We’ve made up. We survived having three children under the age of three at one point.

He’s my best friend. However, sometimes I want to throw a pot at him (Okay, that was only once. I took a walk in the woods instead). Generally, we’ve figured out how to keep the peace between ourselves.

He might not say all the right words. He might not be there at my beck and call. But he’s by my side when I need him most—seeing through my independent bravado and giving me the hugs I need. He knows me better than anyone on earth ever will.

I might not always serve his food lovingly. I might frequently offer unsolicited advice. But he knows I’ve got his back, and I’ll back him up no matter what--even if it means preparing to punch some disrespectful guy on a train (Don’t ask…trying to forget I almost did that).

Yes, marriage is work. But good marriages work for a lifetime. You get to this point and you realize you’d never go back to those newlywed days.

And, let me tell you, I wouldn’t trade our greatest adventure for anything.

Heather Day Gilbert is the author of GOD'S DAUGHTER, a novel based on Gudrid, a Viking heroine in the Icelandic sagas. Heather's novels go beyond the vows, capturing the triumphs and heartaches unique to married couples. You can find Heather here:

http://www.heatherdaygilbert.blogspot.com

FB: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Heather-Day-Gilbert/255797467834948

Twitter: @vikingwritergal

Guest Blogger: Becky Doughty

My Great Adventure – Living on the Front Lines

My name is Becky Doughty, and I’m a friend and fellow Braveheart to Jennifer. She asked me to share with you my great adventure… but as I started thinking over my life, I realized that every day is another great adventure. Every day there’s another battle to fight, another victory to celebrate, another loss to mourn, another wound to heal, another moment to cherish. Every day, every breath, is a great adventure.

As J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan says, “To live will be an awfully big adventure.”

TODAY is my great adventure.

But the question bears asking, then; How am I going to live this day?

Colossians 3:23-24

Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord rather than for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance. It is the Lord Christ whom you serve.

Do you remember the scenes in Braveheart where the Scots, led by an axe-wielding, blue-faced William Wallace, come sweeping down the hill into the valley to meet the British? How about the Battle of Helms Deep when a glorified Gandalf the White descends upon the Uruk-hai? Or one of my favorites; in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, when the newly-crowned King Peter, in all his youth, uncertainty and inexperience, raises his sword to lead an out-numbered army against the forces of tyranny and darkness. My mother-heart quakes in my bosom... but my warrior-heart sings like a finely-honed sword being drawn from its sheath.

The Front Lines. When you take a stand, when you accept the crown of inheritance to the throne, you automatically go straight to the front lines. Do not pass the snack bar, do not collect applause and adoration. It’s the “Toss ‘em in - they’ll learn to swim!” theory, the fine print on the Serve the Mightiest King in the Universe contract that no one really takes the time to read.

Come on. Can’t a girl watch from the sidelines for a while? Y’know, see how it’s done?  Or maybe work my way up to the front lines as I become more and more certain of my skills? How about if I start somewhere in the middle so that I’m covered on all sides by those who have a little more experience than I do?

Ok. Let’s really think about this: No honor is awarded to those on the sidelines. And advancing through the ranks on my own merit robs my Captain of the honor that is due Him. Starting in the middle? Well, isn’t that just putting my faith in man? I mean, what if my comrade (the one I’m hiding behind) gets distracted and leads me off course? What if he falls? Or is taken captive? What if he blocks my view of the enemy and all I can do is strike out blindly, hoping that I’m armed with the right weapon? What if he blocks my view of the Captain altogether and I forget Who I am fighting for?

On the front lines, however, I get a much clearer picture of the assault mounted against me and I can adjust my defense accordingly. On the front lines, I know who is behind me - the army of the Lord! But even more important, on the front line, I have an unobstructed view of the Captain of the Angel Armies, the Son of God, the Ruler of Heaven and Earth. There is nothing standing between me and my Leader. I may not know the intricacies of the battle plan, I may not even understand why this specific battle must be fought, but I know the face and voice of my Leader, and as long as my eyes stay trained on Him, my ears stay tuned to His command, and my faith remains in He who is ALREADY VICTORIOUS, I know that I’m where I need to be for this moment.

                       

1 John 5:4-5

“Whatever is born of God overcomes the world; and this is the victory that has overcome the world - our faith. And who is the one who overcomes the world but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God!”

You want adventure? I’ll look for you on the front lines. TODAY!

Siva Stephens--Guest Post

My Greatest Adventure

Hi, Redhead fans! My name is Siva Stephens. When Jennifer put out the call for guest bloggers  while she's in Bolivia, I volunteered because – well, partly because we Writers never turn down even the most roundabout invitation to Write, but mostly because  it was Jennifer asking. Everyone wants to support their friends, but so often opportunities to help are limited to things like posting, “Woot! Go for it!” notes on Facebook  or saying, “Tell me if you need anything” at the end of a difficult phone call. I jumped at the chance to do something practical for her!

Since Jennifer is off on her Big Adventure, she has asked us to write about our own experiences in that line. I admit that I've had some adventures that sound pretty great on paper; I lived in The Far East for several years, I honeymooned in Europe, and I celebrated my 50^th birthday by diving into the pool at a Nudist Resort.

The problem with adventures is this: they are often more “adventurous” when you're dreaming about them beforehand and remembering them afterward. While you're having them, you're the same big ol' doofus you always are.

I had a baby daughter when I lived in Japan, and I would smack her tender little head into the door frame every single time I put her into her car seat. We were surrounded by wooden-lacework temples, cherry blossoms and roadside vending machines that distributed edible underpants, but all I could see were my daughter's appraising eyes fixed on mine in that split-second before the screams began -  that gaze which said so clearly, “Really, Mom? Again?"

© Bogdan | Stock Free Images

 You just don't see that in the travel brochures.

I spent a lot of time in London wondering how long it would take my washed-in-the-sink panties to dry on the hotel radiator, and my studiedly-casual strut across the Nudie Club's courtyard was negated seconds later by the decidedly unrehearsed shriek of terror I emitted in the deep end of the pool. (In my defense, the club was in a rural area, and I thought I was being attacked by river otters. I had no idea that certain parts would float so high.)

On the other hand, I've experienced giddy waves of rapture at the most seemingly-mundane moments: When that same daughter said “Mama!” and laughed for the first time, and when the love of my life walked into the laundry room, opened a shiny box containing a diamond solitaire and proposed to me while I was taking clothes out of the dryer, and when a friend who Knows Some People said, “Hey! Send me a couple of chapters from that book you're working on. No promises, but I'll see what I can do.”

You know. Life.

When Jennifer was preparing for her first trip to Bolivia, she confessed to me one day that she was having a slight attack of cold feet. What was she thinking, she wondered? She was a suburban housewife, she had children and a husband at home, she had Responsibilities with a capital R. Wouldn't it make more sense for her to support the Radio Project in some other, more prudent way? She had joint trouble, foot trouble, and considered herself out-of-shape. What good was she going to do, prancing around the Andes? She'd just hold everyone back.

In a rare, blinding moment of knowing what to say at a time like this (instead of 2 days later), I shared the story of the seashell. It seems that a missionary in inland Africa was nearing the end of his stay, and one of his students had been pondering the perfect going-away gift. He knew that his beloved teacher loved shells, so he set out on foot to the coast, in search of a flawless specimen. The round trip took several days. When at last he presented his treasure to the missionary, the missionary was delighted. “It's the most beautiful seashell I've ever seen! Is that where you've been? I'm touched – you have traveled so far, just for me!” The boy smiled and said, “Long walk part of gift.”

© Rocher | Stock Free Images

 To me, that's the essence of adventure – it's not necessary to be at a different altitude, what we must do is cultivate different attitudes. If we open our eyes and our minds to what's new and inspirational, we'll find Excitement in a trip to the grocery store; if we keep our thoughts firmly stuffed into those same narrow, familiar grooves, we wouldn't recognize Romance at the top of the Eiffel Tower during sunset.

Sure, right now Jennifer is trekking through exotic part of the world, but she's also having an adventure of the spirit - the very best kind.